He said, “She sounds kind of damaged. You don’t think it’s exploitative to have sex with a person like that?”
“She is damaged in some ways. That’s why she can’t live alone—she has a kink that could kill her. She’s naïve about a lot of things, too—she hasn’t been out in the world much. But she’s not as simple as she seems. She really is a competent adult who has some issues and happens to be a thoroughgoing submissive. She craves a lot of sex, too, and it would be cruel to make her do without it. The world of BDSM has a lot of people with high sex drives—that includes you, in case you haven’t noticed. You’re going to have two sexually excitable women around, both naked most of the time, and you have to decide how you’re going to cope.”
“Do you want me to have sex with her?”
“I want you to look at her. Really look. Stare at her. She likes that, and she’ll stare back at you. The three of us are going to live together. The two of you are going to have some kind of relationship, like it or not, and we need to figure out what it’s going to be.”
“If I find her attractive, won’t that complicate our relationship?”
“Listen,” Emily said. “When you knew me before, I’d discovered only a part of me. I can’t say that I know everything about myself now, but I know I am bisexual, and polyamorous, and a switch. You know about those things, but you’ve got to be completely all right with them, or our relationship won’t work.”
“I’m okay with them if I understand them right—that being bi means you don’t desire me less as a man, that being poly doesn’t mean you love me less, and that being a switch doesn’t mean you’re less submissive to me.”
“You understand them right,” she said, rubbing his chest. “You wouldn’t believe how much I love you, how I long to serve you, and how I love it when we make love. And it’ll be all right with me if you find out you’re polyamorous too, because I’ll know that doesn’t mean less of you for me.”
Her hand slid down his body, and he felt himself stir.
“I’ll look at her,” he said.
“And be honest with yourself about what you feel when you do. When we know what you want, what she wants, and what I want, then we’ll be ready to figure out how we’re going to live.”
“Okay,” he said. “And now I’d like to have my slave back.”
“Yes, Master,” she said meekly.
It took him by surprise how quickly she turned back into a slave and how instantly his body responded to her submissiveness. He flipped her onto her back and went down on her. Her clit ring drove him nearly mad with lust.
The next morning he made himself study Amanda as she went about her chores—carrying laundry and cleaning the kitchen floor. She was small and thin, almost emaciated, with pale skin and dark, delicate features. She had black hair, a tattoo of a fly on one small, nearly flat breast, and on her right side a large tattoo of a sad-faced girl holding her heart in her hand. She had a little silver barbell in each nipple. Her pussy was shaved, and the inner labia protruded a little. He found the effect charming.
He noticed Amanda staring at him that morning, too—looking up from her scrubbing or pausing in a doorway with an armload of towels. Whenever he caught her staring, his cock stirred and leaked a little.
He decided to take a shower before lunch. He kept the water cool, trying to cool his emotions and sensations. He needed to think rationally about his situation.
But when he stepped out of the shower, Amanda was there in the bathroom, standing perfectly still, back against a door that he was quite sure he’d closed and locked before turning on the water. Her dark stare seemed to take in all of him at once.
“Mouche wants to serve Master Andrew,” she said. “Mistress says I can if you’ll let me.”
He found her stillness and steady gaze unnerving. Her face was beautiful, her lips sensuously curved. He couldn’t help thinking about what passed through those lips, what he’d inferred about her kink. “I don’t want a toilet slave,” he said.
“I don’t have to serve you that way,” she said. “Can I dry you off?”
“Okay,” he said.
With a grave manner she took a towel from a rack and massaged his hair. With another towel she gently patted him dry—face, shoulders, chest and stomach, back, buttocks, cock and balls, legs, feet. She worked efficiently and didn’t linger over any part of him, even his cock, which he’d willed to stay down, though he now observed, in case he hadn’t known it, that cocks don’t pay any attention to the conscious mind. His bathrobe hung over a towel rack. She took it and helped him into it.
One bathroom door opened into the bedroom he shared with Emily. Amanda followed him into the room, closed the door, and said, “Mistress said I could serve Master Andrew sexually, if you’d let me.”
So here was his moment of decision. Wanting a few more seconds for thought, he asked, “Are you sure this is what you want to do, and not what Mistress has told you to do?”
She stared at him, puzzled for a moment, as if she didn’t quite get his drift. Then she said, “There’s no difference between what Mistress says and what I want. She said I could let you take me. She said I was allowed to serve you and do what you wanted me to.”
In what seemed an unconscious gesture, her hand strayed to her pussy. He wanted to fuck her, more than anything.
He opened his robe and said, “Very well, then. Serve me.”
With a fluid, graceful motion, she crossed the space between them, went to her knees, and closed her lips around him. Her mouth was soft, wet, and tight: she closed her eyes and looked serene, as if not sucking his cock had been strenuous, but now she was at rest.
He wondered what Emily was doing just then and what she was thinking, knowing she’d sent Amanda to him and they were here together. Would she be aroused? Would she feel any anxiety at all, or jealousy? He didn’t think so: he believed she’d have confidence in him.
Amanda was taking him deeper now, sucking harder and looking up at him to check his responses. He wondered about her responses, too. He took her head in both hands and pulled her towards him, forcing her lips down to the base of him. She took him all silently, still looking up. Her mouth overflowed, and thick drool roped to the floor, but the only sound in the room was his own rasping breath and the liquid noise of his cock thrusting into her.
He reached down, took her under the armpits, and lifted her to him. He studied her face: brown eyes regarding him, pupils dark and wide, dark red lips a little open, teeth white and even, tongue pink and wet, chin shiny with saliva, which he licked away. He touched her cheek: her skin was smooth and felt good under his fingertips. He took her in his arms and kissed her, dismissing from his mind any thought of what else she might have done with her mouth that day, and she pressed her body against his. He reached for her pussy. Her wetness was delightful to the touch, his fingers slid in easily, and he fucked her with his hand, delighting in the way her kiss became more fiery and ardent.
He broke away from her and pushed her backwards onto the bed: she hit with a little bounce and waited silently, watching him. He shrugged off his robe, pushed her legs apart, and went down on her. He pushed two fingers into her and tongued her clit roughly, knowing this much over-stimulation would be hard to take. She whined, writhed, and pushed against the bedclothes with her feet, trying to get away, but he held her firmly by the thighs. He closed his mouth over her and sucked her clit, and she fell silent except for her hard breathing.
He turned her over and set her on her knees, legs spread, head resting on her crossed arms. He stood behind her on the bed and looked at her small, pink anus, surrounded by the ghostly white skin of her crack. He’d only had anal sex once in his life, the night before with Emily, but he’d loved the tightness of an ass and the naughtiness of it, and now the sight of Amanda’s filled him with lust. He massaged her anus, and she made a strange mewing sound into the bedclothes. It sounded like encouragement.
In the drawer with the other devices, there was
a little bottle of lubricant and several condom packets. He lubricated her crack and anus—her mewing got louder—and stretched her first with one finger, then two.
Standing behind her, he put on a condom and pushed into her as she breathed hard and clutched at the bedsheets. Then she relaxed a little as he started to thrust, holding her hips. He loved the look of her thin white back, her black hair falling around her slender neck . . . wanting to see her face, he took a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. She was breathing hard through her mouth, eyes wide, absorbed in the sensations. She whined “Oh!” again, a drawn-out syllable that somehow expressed all her pain and pleasure, and the sound and sight of her made him come, gasping and thrusting.
He let go of her hair. She let her head fall and said, “Please, Master, may I have the condom?”
He pulled off the condom and handed it to her. He knelt and watched as she rolled onto her back, put the open end into her mouth, squeezed the cum out, and swallowed. She said, “May I masturbate, Master, please?”
“You may,” he said, fascinated by her frankness. She made obscenity seem innocent.
She balled up the condom, put it in her mouth, and chewed as she rubbed her pussy, staring at him with steady eyes. By the time she brought herself off, after no more than two minutes, he was aroused again.
She took the condom out of her mouth and said, “You’re hard, Master.” She didn’t ask permission, but crawled to him, took his cock in her hand, and sucked him. She didn’t gaze into his eyes this time, but just worked patiently. He was patient too. It should have been anything but erotic, being sucked like this by a girl who, he now understood, desired only the few drops of cum his body could produce, but somehow her strange need, her determination, and her careful method excited him, and finally he came in her mouth with a groan.
She stayed still for a long time, holding his cock and his cum in her mouth. Then she sat up and swallowed.
She said, “Do you need to piss, Master?”
“No—no thank you,” he said hastily.
“Oh,” she said. “Sometimes men want to piss after sex. Well, I’ll see if Mistress needs me.” She got off the bed and silently left the room.
Feeling a little sneaky and ashamed, he slipped into the bathroom for a piss.
He dressed and went to find Emily, who was in the living room giving instructions to Amanda about the laundry.
He waited till she was done, and said, “Come with me.” She followed him to the bedroom.
Inside the door, he turned on her and said, “Why did you send Amanda to me?”
Her eyes were wide. “I didn’t send her, Master. She asked permission to serve you, and I said she could.”
“We agreed that I’d look at her today and tell you what I thought. You didn’t give me a chance to do that. Instead you sent her to seduce me.”
“No, Master, I didn’t! She saw you looking at her, and that made her want to serve you so badly she couldn’t stand it! She fell on her knees and begged me. What was I to do? She must have gone to you on her own.”
“You should have asked me before you let her approach me.”
“I’m sorry, Master,” she said, and met his gaze, tears gathering in her green eyes. Her tears always turned him on.
He sat on the bed and said, “Come here.”
She stood in front of him, looking frightened.
“Take your pants down.”
She was wearing black shorts. She pushed them down with her panties.
He took her hand and pulled her down over his knee. He gave her two little spanks, one on each side, then stroked her ass gently. She squirmed in his lap and sighed.
He gave her ten hard spanks, five on each side, till her ass was red and she was crying “Master!” Then he flung her onto the bed and said “Shirt off.” He leaned over her and stroked her pussy hard, giving her too much stimulation and making her writhe and cry “No, Master, Please!”
“Punishment isn’t punishment for you, is it?” he said, and gave her pussy a spank.
She jumped and squeaked, closed her legs reflexively and opened them again. He spanked her again and again till she was begging for relief.
Then he stopped, said “That’s all,” and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. “Come here,” he said. She crawled to him and he took her in his arms.
She buried her face in his armpit and said, “I’m sorry, Master. I’ll try to do better.” He held her tighter. He’d liked sex with Amanda, though he wasn’t sure she’d liked it much. And he hadn’t been angry with Emily, not really—though it was surely true that she should have consulted him before telling Amanda she could serve him. He suspected that she’d wanted a spanking all along, and he wanted to give her everything she desired.
They lay together for a long time, and then Emily turned to him and said, “Poor Master.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You must be very tired,” she crooned, “and Mouche has sucked all the cum out of you. I don’t dare try to tempt you into sex; you’re not up to it.”
“You’re a wicked slave,” he said, turning to her. “You’re teasing and manipulating your Master. I’ll have to punish you again. What shall I do with you?”
“Anything but a brutal fuck, Master,” she whined.
He fucked her brutally, wondering all the while whether it was all right for him to enjoy her teasing and manipulation as much as he did.
A couple of days later, they started apartment-sitting on Perry Street for one of Mistress Ai’s many friends. Three weeks after that, they were taking one of their frequent walks around the Village. Their route always took them through Washington Square. Andrew had spent much of the three weeks worrying about sex with Amanda, how much authority he had over her, what besides lust he felt for her, and how she would complicate his life with Emily.
“She’d be just as happy if I jerked off into a cup and handed it to her,” Andrew said. “She doesn’t want me; I can’t please her.”
“It pleases her to serve you,” she said. “When you find out something she likes to do, like swallowing your cum, you can use that as a reward. Otherwise, you don’t have to worry about pleasing her. Not me either, for that matter. When I’m with you, especially in bed, I lose track of my own desires, and I only want to know what you want. Amanda’s that way with pretty much everybody. She wants to be a cum-bucket for you, a toilet for me, and a fuck-toy for both of us.”
“But I can tell you’re getting off when we have sex,” he said. “You sigh, you moan, you have an orgasm. She doesn’t come with me: she masturbates afterwards.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s not getting off,” she said. “She is, believe me. It’s just that having your cum in her mouth is the best part for her, so she wants to save her orgasm for then.”
Andrew still didn’t quite get it, and there was lots more to discuss, but just then an image came into his head of the two women hogtied, lying side by side on the bed. He decided to put aside his worries. He smiled and walked a little faster, setting a course for Perry Street.
* * *
At that precise moment, Pipit, relieved that she hadn’t been spotted, was hurrying towards the arch, wanting to be on time for her appointment with Mistress Ai.
The man who opened Ai’s door was young, fit, naked except for a collar, and entirely hairless. Pipit registered his good looks, but found him no more interesting than she usually found other slaves and submissives. He bowed, smiled, and showed her in.
Mistress Ai, a Japanese woman in her mid twenties, was seated in the living room: she gestured towards a chair, and Pipit perched nervously on the edge of the cushioned seat.
“I know what happened to you,” said Ai, “and why, so there’s no need for us to discuss that. Instead, let’s talk practically about your future.”
“I need a Dominant, Mistress Ai. A Master or a Daddy, someone who understands my needs. If you could talk to Christopher—”
“I have talked
to Christopher,” Ai said. “You’re quite right to identify him as the likeliest Master for you—your kinks were an excellent match for his. But he sees you as grasping and conniving—he’s determined to have nothing more to do with you.”
“Frederick hates me too.”
“You and Frederick were never a good match, but that’s not the issue. People talk, and the way you left your two Masters and the weeks you spent as Karen’s toilet slave have given you a reputation which you’ll find difficult to shed. If you were to attend munches and play parties, your looks would quickly attract a Dominant—or at least someone who claimed to be one. But you wouldn’t be satisfied. The Dominants you’d attract at this point would be frauds at worst, and at best men who couldn’t afford to keep you.”
“I could be happy with a good Mistress,” said Pipit.
Mistress Ai smiled. “It’s too bad I have no need for an additional slave in my household. I am, however, in need of an employee.”
Pipit knew that Mistress Ai was talking about her business, Mistress Shigemi’s House of Kink. “I’m not a Domme, Mistress.”
“What I need,” Ai said, “is a professional submissive.”
“I’m not a whore either, Mistress,” Pipit said.
“That’s good,” said Ai, “because I don’t sell sex or permit my employees to sell it. I have two submissives who specialize in impact play, but they’re not happy when a client wants a puppy or pony. You, on the other hand, are excellent at role play. You’d make a more-than-adequate living.”
Pipit liked the idea of submitting to strangers, but had worries.
“Mistress, is it safe?”
“There’s constant supervision, and all clients are required to respect your limits and safewords. Before your first session with any client, you’ll work out what kind of play you’ll engage in, and any differences on subsequent visits will require negotiation. You can decline to see any clients who make you uncomfortable.”
Pipit didn’t want to be a professional submissive. She needed lots of sex and humiliation: she’d get the humiliation in the job Ai was offering her, but she had no idea where she’d get the sex. Still, if Mistress Ai was right about her reputation, she didn’t have a lot of choices. “Okay, Mistress,” she said, “I’ll do it.”
Manhattan Kink: A Boxed Set Page 24